


Voyeur

by fayegrove



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Daydreaming, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Smutlet, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayegrove/pseuds/fayegrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is away filming and you have just begun to watch his most recent movie. Your body is not prepared, however, and you soon find yourself lost in a heated daydream, unaware that your indulgence is far from private.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> _Loki’s first appearance makes you stifle a gasp so that he can’t hear and you watch, biting hard on your lower lip with increasing desire as Loki displays his power and raw sexuality…and then Tom finally notices your tension. His eyes take in your fists clenched tightly in your lap, your bright red lip and pink cheeks. With a grin he leans over and whispers, “do you like seeing me as Loki, darling?”_  
> 
> Also on Tumblr.

With nothing to otherwise occupy your time, you find yourself lying comfortably on the living room sofa with a brand new copy of The Avengers that had arrived in the post from Disney that morning starting on the TV. It had been Tom’s idea to get the ludicrously large 80 inch LED that was now mounted against your wall, and you had finally conceded because it really did have a gorgeous picture quality.

While the opening sequence began you readjust the pillow under your head and gather yourself under the blanket, nice and cozy on the L shaped sofa set. By the time you had gotten completely comfortable a loud noise blares from the TV and you jump, your heart racing as you unravel yourself hastily to find the remote that you had left sitting on the floor, turning down the volume. When your eyes return to the screen, you see a startling blue light and a figure materializing from within it.

Tom, you think with a jolt as you recognize his figure. The camera has zoomed in on his face and the evil grin you see there surprises you. Never had you seen such a smile on your husband’s features, not in life nor in any of the roles he’d portrayed prior. The smile was so unfamiliar that you find your breath hitch at the sight of it. Then out of nowhere you see your husband’s full form on the screen, with long, black hair so unlike the soft, fair curls that you know and the armor that makes him appear so menacing, become violent as he attacks the room.

He looks so powerful, so forceful, that you find yourself pressing your thighs together under the blanket as you watch him overpower an entire group of people. He’s just acting, you remind yourself quickly. This isn’t real! Yet when you hear his voice booming out of the surround sound system that had been installed around the room along with the TV, you shiver nonetheless.

Tom is your husband. You have been married for three, blissful years, and had been together since two years even before then. He is your everything and you are his, and you liked to think that you knew each other inside and out. Yet every time a new film of his came out, to your great surprise you realized that there was a new side of him to discover which you’d had no idea even existed beneath his charming exterior. And each of these sides to your husband that surfaced you found yourself longing to experience for yourself.

You had not seen Tom in two months. He has been away filming a vampire movie (which in and of itself was enough to get your blood boiling) and, as a general rule of thumb whenever he was gone, you had developed the custom of abstaining from self-pleasure. The reasoning was simple and yet extremely difficult to follow through on: you wanted to become so starved of touch that whenever Tom returned home, being with him was almost as exciting and satisfying as the first time you two had ever slept together.

Seeing him as Loki on the giant TV, however, was testing your will power. After a while you find yourself no longer paying attention to any scene in which he was not present, instead allowing your hand to trace a leisurely path between your legs. Your fingers rest against the cotton of your panties, touching lightly against the warm flesh beneath. The pressure sends a searing of pleasure through your lower abdomen and you press harder, watching as Tom suddenly appears on the screen in a suit and using the scepter in his hand as a cane.

Longing consumes you as you gaze on your husband strolling down the marble steps, his long legs under the black trench coat seeming to go on for miles. When he suddenly tosses his scepter in the air and catches the other end, hitting a man across the face with it and sending him flying, you press your hand harder against your aching folds, rubbing gently in circles as you watch your husband’s display of violence on the screen culminate with body slamming a man to a platform. Not long after his suit transforms into ornate armor and leaves you gasping audibly at the sight of him striding through the crowd, sending a bolt of blue energy towards a police car. The graceful movements of his body are overwhelming enough for you to slip a finger beneath your panties.

A moan escapes your lips, syncing the gentle probing of your moist folds with the rhythm of Tom’s voice. The surround sound almost makes it seem as if he is standing right beside you, speaking seductively in your ear and encouraging you to carry on. With your free hand you turn up the volume until your ears ring with the reverberations and you kick the blanket off of you, suddenly stifling hot under its weight. Your eyes close and you let your knees fall wide open, exploring yourself to Tom’s voice.

The sensation of your own hand is nothing compared to those that his produce, yours being much smaller and not capable of the willpower to draw out the pleasure. Still, you slip a finger inside of yourself and exhale at the damp heat. Is this what Tom feels when he slips a finger into you, followed by another? What you feel like when you are gripping his shaft so tightly that he is groaning in your ear, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping himself above you?

Tormenting and enticing you all at once, the thoughts are worsened when the sound of Tom’s voice is drowned out by the sounds of fighting. You open your eyes and turn your head towards the TV, only to see Tom and Chris locked in a battle. Some, small part of you recognizes that everything you are seeing is a combination of CGI and cinematography, visuals created to please the audience. Aware though you are that Tom could not (and would not) ever treat anyone so violently, the cruelty and power displayed by him on the giant screen sends waves of eagerness rushing through you. A timid, second finger slips inside of your slit and you whimper, clutching your thighs together against your wrist.

When The Avengers premiere had taken place you were not able to attend with Tom, being at a convention in Boston for your psychology department. Once you’d both come back home you only wanted to spend your time with Tom before he was off to film his vampire film, and so you’d never gotten to see it in theatres. This, your first viewing, was making you wish that you had. Unbidden to your mind comes a half-formed image of sitting next to your husband in the darkened theatre.

He leans backwards, arms folded as he grins up in pride and happiness at the film, initially oblivious to your squirming. Loki’s first appearance makes you stifle a gasp so that he can’t hear and you watch, biting hard on your lower lip with increasing desire as Loki displays his power and raw sexuality…and then Tom finally notices your tension. His eyes take in your fists clenched tightly in your lap, your bright red lip and pink cheeks. With a grin he leans over and whispers, “do you like seeing me as Loki, darling?” His voice in your ear is devious and, unnoticed by the other guests, he slides a hand into your lap and under your dress. You gasp and squirm when his warm fingers find their way into your panties and begin to stroke you in delicate, drawn out sweeps. You widen your legs slightly to give him better access and, when a long finger slips inside of you, it takes every ounce of self-composure you possess to not cry out. He slides in and out of your clenching walls, watching your face--

\--as your eyes remain focused on the screen, watching as Tom is led down a hallway with armed guards. He has a distinct strut to his walk and stands a head above everyone else, a devious grin pulling at his lips as he passes.

Groaning you spread your legs wide and place your feet under your backside on the sofa, adding a third finger to the two already inside of you as your eyes fasten on the screen. A desperate ache begins to build as you watch Tom locked inside of a see-through cage, grinning as his words wash over you. The speed and force of your fingers increase and your free hand moves to your left nipple under your tank top, pinching and rolling it as you close your eyes once again.

Tom leans over and whispers in your ear, “I am going to take you when we get home. I’m going to rip off all of your clothing and shove you onto the bed. Then I will make love to you until you don’t know where your body ends and mine begins,” he emphasizes his promise by adding two fingers to his index finger. You nearly cry out with pain and need, remembering just in time that you are in a public place and biting your tongue to keep silent. You feel his palm rubbing against your clit and the pressure is beginning to drive you nearly to madness.

“Tom,” you moan aloud, driving your fingers deeper and faster into yourself, struggling to find the same gratification that you know his hands alone could give you. “Tom, harder—“ you stop, interrupted by the TV showing you Tom and Scarlett in a battle of wits. Your eyes lock on his sitting form, his twiddling fingers. The hand on your breast yanks down to your clit and begins to rub in circles as the other pummels into your swollen opening. Your gasps begin to come in short, rattling breaths.

“You’re going to feel me so deep inside of you that it will be blissful agony,” theatre Tom whispers in your mind as you groan and raise your hips up off the bed, your arms cramping with the effort of straining to give yourself release. “And when I come into you my seed will coat your womb for days, marking you as mine.”

“Tom!” you cry out as your orgasm takes you in a short, powerful burst of energy, your hips rolling against your hands even as the wisps of fantasy float away from you, long gone by the time your body collapses back onto the sofa, slick with sweat and panting heavily. Your hands continue to move gently inside of you and against your tender nub, contentment replacing the inexplicable lust.

“Well that was something,” a voice behind you says.

Your eyes shoot open. There, leaning over the sofa with his chin in one hand, is your husband. The grin on his face tells you quite plainly that he has been watching for some time. The shock hits you in the gut like a brick and you quickly close your legs, face burning.

“Tom! What are you doing home? I thought you were in Detroit!”

The smile on Tom’s face is wicked as he stares down at you with amused eyes. “I had a week off from filming so I decided to come home and surprise you. Though I must admit, I think you won that bit,” he says lightly. His eyes never leave yours and you feel the obviousness of the situation like a spotlight shining down on you: Loki was now on the screen teasing a captured Thor, the volume so loud that Tom’s own voice was nearly drowned out by that of his character’s on the TV. Your blanket has been thrown to the ground in a crumpled heap, along with the sophie shorts and panties that you hadn’t even recalled ripping off in your haste. The sweat on your skin and bare lower half, the still-rapidly rising chest… in embarrassment you moved to cover your face, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. With the other he picks up the remote from where it lay beside you and turns the volume down.

“That was incredibly sexy,” Tom murmurs, and you see that his own breathing is escalated, “to hear you call out my name when I’m not even there. Tell me what you were imagining.”

You open your eyes, surprised. “I… I was imagining that we had seen The Avengers in theatres together. And—and you saw me getting turned on, and fingered me. Whispered things in my ear…”

“What things?” Tom lets go of your wrist and walks around the sofa so that he is kneeling on the floor beside you, watching your face as it burns under his intent gaze.

“That—“ your voice quiets in a delicious sort of shyness you hadn’t felt around Tom in a long time—“that you were going to take me hard when we got home, until I couldn’t tell where our bodies ended or began. And that you were going to—“ you stop yourself then, turning your beet-red cheeks towards the back of the sofa and away from Tom’s searching eyes. His hand reaches out and turns your face back towards him, his expression no longer jesting.

“I was going to what?”

“Come inside of me,” you finish in a mortified tone, feeling idiotic that such a thing was what finally got you off. To your surprise Tom grins and leans forward to kiss you lightly on the forehead.

“With pleasure,” he whispers in your ear, sending a shudder of anticipation racing through your limbs. He slides between your legs on the sofa, his flannel shirt hanging down so that you are greeted with a tantalizing view of his bare chest beneath as one hand moves towards his belt buckle. “Anything for you, love.”

The movie plays on, forgotten, as Tom’s lips find yours.


End file.
